For sleeping in a tent on spikey ground a few metres away from a busy interstate, even Deborah admits that it was one of our better night’s sleep.
As we should not have been camping at the picnic area without permission, with a hefty fine if we got caught, we had set the alarm to go off at 5:45 am. When the alarm did go off it was quickly changed to 6:45 am. At 6:45 am if was turned off altogether and we eventually started to mobilise at our usual time of 7:15 am.
It was cold, very cold, so we sorted our gear out in the tent before daring to open the tent door. When we did eventually crawl out of the tent we did so into a morning that was very different from any other morning that we have experienced on the trip to date. Only a few days ago we were sleeping with the tent door open due to the heat. This morning the temperature was well below freezing and it felt more like a crisp winter morning back in Scotland than what we had expected on the Texas / New Mexico border.
We quickly packed up just in case the Highway Patrol decided to pay the picnic area a visit. As we did so I got talking to Patrick, a truck driver from New York. Patrick and his father had their own truck and were transporting a shipment from New York to Las Vegas. He was a lovely guy, working hard and spending a lot of time away from home to be able to provide for his two kids. Being a proud dad he showed us a photo of them both… cutie doesn’t even come close! Patrick was impressed by what we were up to, but more so that Deborah was cycling Route 66 with me, so much so he found a poem on his phone entitled ‘Solemate’, that he asked her to read out to me. I would have loved to have chatted all morning, but Patrick had a shipment to get to Las Vegas and we had to get to Tucumcari.
We kicked off to the horn of Patrick’s truck and headed back out on to the busy I-44. Shortly afterwards Patrick when past us with another blast of the horn, just as I was thinking my front tyre was feeling a little squidgy. We pulled over at the first safe opportunity, behind a crash barrier. I couldn’t be bothered to change the tyre there, so with fingers crossed, pumped the tyre up as hard as I dared and carried on cycling.
The I-44 section lasted 13 miles, by which time our nerves were ready for a break. While most drivers do pull over to the far lane, even though we use the hard shoulder, they only do this when the far lane is free of other traffic. When it’s not free to move over, they thunder past just a meter or two from us, which is a little scary.
By the time we were able to leave the I-44 and rejoin Route 66, the wind was blowing strong enough to warrant at least one reef in the main if we were sailing. Unfortunately, if we were sailing we would be sailing close-hauled, which in cycling terms translate to a headwind, making the going hard. Route 66 took us over the I-44 and onto a newly and very badly resurfaced road. As if this wasn’t bad enough, this road only lasted a couple of miles before Route 66 turned into a dirt track. There was no sign, but I could see it for myself on the cycle computer… Welcome to New Mexico!
The combination of the dirt track and an ever-increasing headwind made cycling very difficult and slower than a slow thing on a bad day. While we couldn’t be certain from the cycle computer, but it looked likely this dirt track was seventeen miles long. After an hour we had managed six miles. If we had a plan for the day, which we didn’t, then things most certainly weren’t going to it.
On the positive side, we were now in New Mexico and were unmistakenly in the desert. It was beautiful.
We finally made it back on to a solid road surface after almost three hours of pedalling the dirt road. The road had taken it toll on us, but more worryingly, the road had also taken its toll on my front tyre (the old rear tyre), which now had patches that were clearly worn through. While I do have a spare folding tyre if it fails, I am still hoping that I will be able to nurse it through a few more days to the next bike shop in Albuquerque, some two hundred miles away, but the risk of needing the folding tyre just increased substantially.
The next milestone for the day was San Jon, less than ten miles further down the road. While we were now on a road that could be described as such, the wind continued to attempt to blow us backwards, so progress was painfully slow. I had a picture of San Jon being a residential town, with people and things that people need in it, such as shops. Unfortunately that was not the case, which was confirmed when I searched on Google Maps to discover the only food available in the town was from the service station.
While not what we had hoped for, they served hot chocolate and doughnuts, enough to warm us and give us enough energy to fuel the legs for the remaining 25 miles to the closest motel in Tucumcari.
With the end in sight, we put our foot down, so to speak, completing the 25 miles in just over two and a half hours, with the wind never letting up for a second the whole way. It was tempting to stop at the first motel that we came to on the outskirts of town, but with a need for food and a desire to actually sit at a table while consuming it, we pushed on a further couple of miles to the centre of town, looking into the cheapest establishment we could find at $42 – the Bright Morning Motel.
A quick shower to make ourselves human again and then across the car park to the restaurant next door for a real meal, with real food.
The remainder of the night has been filed with Companies House business, setting up on-line training courses for Britsail students and desperately trying to get my blogs back up to date.
We will most certainly sleep tonight!
What a day.
Congratulations on your grit and fortitude.
What a day. Congratulations on your grit and fortitude today.
Some days are easier than others John, but quick getting to dislike headwinds, not so much for the wind, but the frustration of what it does to a well thought out plan!!